So the charming englishmen is hounding me for another date, and after declaring praise for me (sexy, beautiful, gorgeous....blah bloody blah) also quietly drops the sentence...by the way I am seeing someone but it's casual and not serious. I KNEW it was too good to be true. I think he channels Hugh Grant in that Bridget Jones movie. You know he's bad...but also hard to resist.
Interesting that spirits can be lifted so easily and your opinion of males suddenly ascends into the clouds and you think...."oh...maybe some men are nice after all". But then comes the thunderstorm with hail stones like knife blades. If I had a dollar for the amount of married/attached men that tried it on...I would be set up in a pink villa on the cliffs of Portofino sipping mulled wine and eating mangos...ALONE. Against my better judgement, I am giving him the benefit of the doubt thinking it may be just a case of bad timing and going on a dastardly date which I have illustrated to him will be the commencement of a "nice friendship thing". Whether it goes anywhere else will be left to fate and if he bloody tries to get up my skirt I may tell him to sod off. Maybe.
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